


Dammit

by soproudofya



Series: Technicalities [2]
Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Angst, Incest, M/M, Step-Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-19 02:50:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3593574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soproudofya/pseuds/soproudofya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Less than ideal circumstances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Better Half

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to JunoMagic for beta-ing, and blackbirdxfly and Soren for doing fuck knows how many read-overs (and listening to me complain). <3

Sometimes Zach regrets giving Chris a key to his apartment. Not to say that he abuses his power, but _sometimes_ Zach will come home and Chris will be parked on the couch with a bag of chips or some shit, usually too engrossed in his homework or college applications or a book to realize that he's given the couch and himself a fine dusting of crumbs.

That's the only time, though—at least, that's the only time he can think of right now, because he's still half asleep and Chris is peppering kisses on his cheeks. Grinning, he pulls Chris down and kisses him hard, like they didn't see each other just yesterday.

Chris hums and nuzzles Zach's neck. "Maybe I should skip today."

"Nuh uh." Zach yawns. "You're not skipping."

"Aw, babe."

"See, this is why you don't need a car—you always want to skip."

He huffs a laugh, his breath tickling Zach's skin. "You sound like such an old fart, dude."

"Hey, I'm just trying to keep you from succumbing to senioritis."

"Okay, old man." Chris sits up and moves next to him; Zach takes the opportunity to lay his head in Chris' lap, sighing contentedly when he feels fingers in his hair. "I miss you."

"You were here yesterday, dipshit."

"It's not the same, man. I miss having you in the same house."

"Oh my god, Chris. I moved out, like, a year ago." He laughs, but he pushes his forehead against Chris' belly. "I miss it, too."

"And we've both been so fucking busy."

"I know, it fucking sucks. But hey, you graduate soon, and I'm not doing summer classes."

Zach hears him laugh, and the fingers in his hair curl, tugging ever so lightly. "I should go. Old man wouldn't want me to be late, would he?"

"Hell no." Finally, Zach pushes himself up. He cups Chris' cheek as they kiss, lingering a bit longer than he should for 7:30-ish AM goodbye smooch. "Be safe. Have a good day."

"You, too. I love you."

 

*

 

Chris' graduation is an unsurprisingly awkward affair. Zach can fake his way through holidays and other family functions, but it's harder when he's so happy; he wants to hold Chris close and tell him just how proud he is.

He doesn't even go for a hug—not a real one, anyway. It's a one-armed side hug, but he squeezes Chris' nape for what's probably too long, maybe smiling harder than he should.

Chris insists on riding to the restaurant with Zach, and as soon as they're in the safety of his car, Zach takes his chance. He brings one hand to the back of Chris' neck, fingering his recently-trimmed hairline, and brings him in for a kiss. "I'm so proud, baby."

He can feel Chris smiling. "Thank you."

At dinner, Chris strategically sits on Zach's left so they bump arms. Even that feels suspicious; Zach is starting to think he should have kept his hands to himself in the car, because now it's harder to do so in front of everyone else. It fucking sucks. It's like he's in the middle of a play in a packed theater and he's forgotten his lines. Like he can't remember the stage directions that tell him how to handle Chris.

But Chris is happy. He's smiling a lot, looking at Zach a lot. And that makes Zach happy, too.

 

*

 

"I think we should go ahead and tell them."

It's after their anniversary but before Chris' birthday. They've been living in this happy, naive bubble for give or take a month, ever since Zach's birthday. He hates to be the one to ruin it, but it's what they agreed on: Chris turns eighteen, they tell one or both of their siblings.

Chris gives him a wide-eyed, reasonably horrified look. "You said we'd wait."

"Until you turned eighteen."

"I'm not eighteen yet."

Zach rolls his eyes. "You have, like, half a month left. You might as well be. Can we at least talk about it?"

"Fair enough," Chris sighs. "You're still telling Joe, right?"

The thought alone shakes him up. Saying he doesn't want to is a fucking understatement. It's risky—if it goes poorly, he could screw up his relationship with Joe. Hell, Joe could disown him entirely, and it sends his stupid abandonment issues into overdrive, that part of him that fears people leaving because his dad left and never came back.

But when they brought up telling Katie, Chris fucking wept. And yeah, he's a crier, but when he's full on sobbing out of anxiety? When he's contemplating their family denouncing him and he’s utterly inconsolable? The guilt is damn near unbearable; Zach still struggles with it, feeling like this is his fault, that he coaxed Chris into all of this.

"That's not true," Chris has had to assure him on several occasions. "You know that's not true."

He can feel the anxiety coming off of Chris in waves. "Yeah," he mumbles. "I can try."

" _Try?_ "

"I can't promise you that I won't pussy out at the last second."

"Z, come on."

"Chris—I know it scares you, but I need you to at least consider talking to Katie about it, okay? We said one or both."

"I really don't want to do this right now."

" _I_ really don't want to go down alone." As soon as the words leave his mouth, Zach regrets them.

Chris jumps to his feet, turning around to glare at Zach. "Are you fucking kidding me? 'You don't want to go down alone?’ Do you realize how fucking douchey that sounds?"

"I'm sorry.” He throws his hands up in defeat, like that might make Chris less angry. "Yeah, that was... that was really dickish."

"What, you want me to tell Katie so I can feel like shit, too?" Chris shakes his head. "That's why I didn't want to talk about this. You always say something so—so fucking stupid and uncalled for—"

"Hey,” he cuts in gently. "Smoke break."

Chris sighs and nods. It's code for 'take a fucking break and reconvene in like, ten minutes.' There's not always smoking involved; today, Zach smokes just to calm his nerves. Chris locks himself in the bathroom.

When he’s finished, Zach taps on the door, presses his ear against the wood. "You ready to talk again?"

The door opens and Chris appears. "Yeah." He hugs Zach and breathes a sigh in his ear before they saunter back to the sofa.

"Okay, so... will you at least consider it?"

"I guess it's only fair." Chris scrubs at his face; Zach knows him well enough to be sure that he wants to snap again. "Okay, now it's my turn to say something douchey."

"Hit me."

"I wish we weren't related."

It's not the first time he's said it, and it's not the first time Zach agrees with him. He prods Chris in the side with his elbow. "If we weren't, we probably wouldn't know each other. And let's face it, if we didn't know each other, you'd be way less cool."

Chris snorts and bumps his shoulder. "You say that like you aren't a fucking loser."

"Ouch, Chrissy. You wound me."

"Don't call me that."

Zach jabs at him, starts tickling his ribs. " _Chrissyyyyyyy_ ," he coos; Chris is laughing and trying to fight him off, though he’s really just flailing and almost whacking Zach in the face. "Watch it, dickass."

They never get back to the subject at hand, and maybe that's a good thing. Zach doesn't want to bicker anymore or have to make up for hurtful, poorly thought out words. Besides, they still have half a month before Chris' birthday.

 

*

 

His mouth dries out before he reaches Joe's doorstep. Zach eagerly accepts the beer offered to him despite it still being early in the day—god knows he'll need it.

Joe keeps looking at him expectantly; Zach had prefaced his request to come over with 'I need to tell you something important,' planning to just spit it out, but the words die in his throat.

"Give me a minute," he says. As expected, this is far more nerve wracking than blurting out "by the way, I'm gay." He takes a long swig of his drink and taps the sides of the bottle. "I have a boyfriend—I have for a while now."

"Okay? Why are you all fucked up over that?"

"Because..." He wants to sink back into the cushions, or better yet, the core of the earth. His entire body is hot and pulsing, and not in the good way. "It's, uh. It's Chris."

"Chris as in...?"

"Pine."

He dares to sneak a peek at Joe's face, and he's met with exactly what he expected: confusion tinged with shock. "Your step-brother."

"That’s the one."

"Tell me this is a joke."

"Sorry?"

"Zachary," he says, "he is your fucking step-brother."

Zach sighs. "Yeah, we’ve established that."

"Can you be serious for two fucking seconds?” The anger in Joe’s tone makes him flinch, scaring Zach enough to snap him out of his smartass defense mechanisms. “How long has this shit been going on?"

"Two years."

"Didn't... didn't he just turn eighteen?" He can't even muster up a 'yes,' so he nods and takes another sip. " _Zach._ "

"I know."

"Okay, I could totally understand if you were trying to go after Katie—at least she’s pretty. But Chris? Really?"

The surge of anger makes him bolt upright. He turns to face Joe, who’s moved to the other end of the couch. Knowing that he doesn’t even want to be near Zach stings a lot more than it should. "I didn't fucking confide in you so you could insult my boyfriend."

"You're telling me that your boyfriend is also your step-brother."

"Yeah, and just because that's the case?" He leans forward and sets his bottle down with too much force. "Doesn't mean you can talk shit about him to my face, you fucking prick."

Joe shakes his head. "So this has been going on for two years."

"Yeah."

"Since he was underage."

"Congratulations on your basic math skills."

"That's creepy, dude."

"I know that, okay? Everything you're saying to me, I've thought about it at some point. I know it's fucked up. I know it was a bad decision on my part." Zach scrubs his hands over his face. "But I wouldn't have done any of it if he didn't want it, too. I love him. I'd never hurt him like that."

He stares at Joe, watching his jaw tighten. Joe is mad at him; Zach has seen that face enough to know what it means. "So not only are you a pedo—”

“I’m _not_ —”

“—you’re a fucking freak.”

“Whatever.” Zach leans back into the couch and looks up at the popcorn ceiling. His eyes sting, and he doesn't want Joe to see them water up. "Can you do one thing for me?"

"What?"

"Don't tell anyone. Especially Mom and Robert. _Please_. We're still trying to figure all of this out."

"I..." Joe scrunches his mouth up, then holds his hands up in defeat. "Okay."

He cries when he leaves, sniffling the entire drive home. Considering how bleary his eyes are, he needs to pay as close attention to the road as possible, but he calls Chris anyway; Zach needs him, and he doesn't feel that very often. With this... sadness? Guilt? This horrible feeling gnawing at his chest, he wants Chris' voice at the very least.

"Hey," Chris answers, surprised. "I'm in class, but you didn't text first so I figured it's important."

"Yeah." He takes a deep breath and lets it out shakily. "I told Joe," he finally says, his voice wavering.

"Oh." Zach can visualize his face falling as it dawns on him. "Oh no."

"Yeah."

"Do you want me to come over?"

"Please."

"Okay. I'll be there soon."

"Chris?"

"Hm?"

He sniffs and lets go of the wheel long enough to wipe his nose. "Do you think we're doing the right thing? By staying together?"

Silence, then a sigh. "I don't know. I love you."

"Love you, too."

He's barely able to choke back a sob when they hang up. This feeling in his chest, this ache—a combination of anger towards his brother and this looming feeling of failure, like he's failed Chris because it went poorly—is borderline unbearable. He takes the long way home, hoping to gather his thoughts. It doesn’t work. He hurts a little less, but only because he's so numb.

There's a lingering sense of foreboding that won't leave, telling him the end is near, that their relationship is drawing to a close. The thought feels like it could knock the wind out of him; he doesn't want it to end, not yet, if ever. It hasn't run its course. They still talk about the future, their future together, although most recent allusions have been hesitant. He's still endlessly fascinated by Chris, his intelligence, his charm.

He is still deeply, desperately in love.

Once he's back home, he unfolds the couch because fuck it, he wants to curl up in bed and hide from the world. He'll lie in bed and Chris will kiss his nose, and probably offer to buy the only pizza he can afford—which is disgusting, but Zach appreciates the sentiment and he understands the broke college kid life—and put up with his trash TV obsession for the remainder of the day.

The slam of a car door jolts him, and he jumps up to unlock the door. Normally he'd scold Chris for skipping, but he can't today. He’s greedy; he wants Chris' arms around him.

Chris glides in and slips his arms around Zach's middle. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, kissing the corner of Zach's mouth. "You wanna talk about it?"

"He hates me." He starts back toward the bed. "He called me a freak."

"You're not."

Zach chews his lip and shakes his head, staring ahead even after Chris sits next to him. "I think we might be fucking up."

"We're not." Chris doesn't sound entirely convinced. "What we have? This is good; we are _fine_. Everyone else is just... judgmental."

"How long can we keep saying that, though?"

"We could... I don't know, maybe we could sit him down together."

"What fucking good will that do?"

"I don't know, Z." Zach sighs and hunches over. He feels Chris' hand on his back, palm pressing into his spine. "Do you still want to do this?"

The fact that he has to consider it should be enough of an answer—and Chris apparently takes it as one, because he stops touching Zach. "What do you think about all of this?" Zach looks at him, bumps his shoulder just for the contact.

"It scares me.” He pauses for a beat. His brows are furrowed, his mouth scrunched up in thought. “I want to be with you, but hearing about Joe... the rest of them could do that. And that's what I _don't_ want."

"I don't, either."

"Then maybe we're fucking up." Chris shrugs, like he's talking about the weather as opposed to the future of their relationship. "He could come around."

Zach scoffs. "You didn't see the look on his face. Like, he was ready to freak the fuck out on me."

"But he didn't. That's kind of promising."

"Kind of."

"I guess I'll get to see that look when we talk to him."

There's no point in fighting it; it _is_ sort of a good idea.

After a while, Chris leans into him, resting his chin on Zach's shoulder. "We could do like we talked about. Move somewhere where no one knows us." He kisses Zach's earlobe. "Go to New York, adopt a dog."

As wonderful and ideal as that sounds—and they could do it if they saved up—he's too pessimistic right now, so it only feels like a far-fetched fantasy.

 

*

 

They decide to give Joe a few days. Honestly, Zach wants to take the shitty way out and have the entire conversation over text, but Chris is insistent about doing it face to face. He figures he should at least warn Joe before they show up, so he frowns at his phone while he tries to figure out what to say.

_i think we should talk again_ is what he sends. He waits impatiently, staring at the screen, hoping to god Joe has his phone on hand.

"Babe," Chris murmurs, taking the phone away. He pockets it and looks at Zach sadly, then kisses him.

Zach cuddles up to him. He needs it; his nerves have been shot since the other day. "I'm scared."

"I know." Chris cards his fingers through Zach's hair and sighs. "Maybe it'll be okay?"

_Maybe._ Zach wants something definite, and he knows Chris does, too. But nothing can be set in stone for them, not when it's like this. Navigating this relationship has always felt like walking on a tightrope without a harness; now, Zach’s swaying too far to one side, and there’s not even a fucking safety net. He isn’t sure when Chris stopped feeling like his safety net, or when ‘as long as I have you, this is okay’ turned into ‘I want you, but I’m not sure I want to sacrifice my family for you’—not just for himself, but Chris, too. He knows it’s mutual. Chris doesn’t have to verbalize it for him to know. It’s in the way his voice shakes when they talk about outing themselves, the way he won’t—or maybe _can’t_ —look at Zach during those discussions.

"Oh." His heart pounds as Chris shifts and pulls Zach's phone back out. He doesn't even bother handing it to Zach. "He asked what there is to talk about."

"God fucking dammit. Just... tell him we're talking, whether he likes it or not. Ask if I can come over. Like, preferably today."

He listens to Chris tapping away on his phone, murmuring the words as he types them. "He's typing."

"Ugh, I feel like I'm gonna puke."

"I love you."

"Even if I puke on you?"

"Even if you puke on me." Zach cracks a small smile and kisses Chris' neck. "Oh, okay. Um. He said it's cool."

"Ask when. Tell him you're coming with."

A few minutes later, "He said he's getting some shit printed right now, but he'll be free in an hour. And not to bring me.”

“Of course not.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Just go with it.”

“Okay, but you know I’m going anyway, right?”

Zach groans. He spends the next half hour or so in the shower, because it's later in the day and he still reeks of yesterday's work-sweat and grease. The fact that he feels the need to clean up for Joe of all people is such a foreign concept to him; he hasn't wanted to impress Joe since he was a child. Now, it feels like Zach has to win him back over.

He's antsy on the drive over, tapping his fingers on the wheel until Chris sighs and grabs his hand. "Calm down," he says. "You're going to flip out, and that won't help our case."

By the time they reach the door, Zach has to bounce on the balls of his feet to expel his nervous energy. Chris' hand is on the small of his back, but it's not quite enough to reassure him that this might go at least somewhat well.

"No matter what happens, I love you," Chris says quietly. Zach reaches around to squeeze his hand, and when he's about to look over his shoulder and return the sentiment, Joe opens the door.

"I told you not to bring him," he grumbles, looking from Zach to Chris. He steps aside so they can come in.

Zach considers how close they should sit, and against his better judgement he leaves a whopping few millimeters of space between them. He needs _something_ to get him through this.

Joe sits in the chair off to the side and looks at them, waiting.

"Have you thought about it at all?" Zach asks.

"Yeah, of course."

"And?"

"I still think it's fucked up. Like, you think this is okay because you're not blood brothers?"

He feels Chris shrug. "Why wouldn't it be?" Zach wants to slap his own forehead; now is not the fucking time for Chris to be a smartass. "It's perfectly legal."

"I doubt that, for some reason. And maybe you should have told me that tidbit of information the first time we talked."

Chris looks at him. "Did you not?"

"Wasn't exactly at the forefront of my mind, dude." Zach chews the corner of his lip and looks back at Joe.

"I still can't believe you aren't fucking with me." Joe leans back and crosses his arms, watching like they're some kind of sideshow freaks.

"Do I have to kiss him before you fucking believe us?" he snaps, and Chris grabs his knee. Right. Calm.

"What exactly were you hoping to accomplish with this?"

"I... we needed someone to know. To see how they'd react."

"Honestly: what the hell were you expecting?"

"This." Zach shrugs. Chris sighs. There's a sense of finality hanging over his head, like this is it; he won't hear from Joe after this, and god only knows what will happen with Chris.

They don't talk in the car. Before they go inside, Zach pulls him in for a kiss, full of desperation and longing, the kind that would make him hard in a heartbeat if he wasn't so fucking sad.

"Smoke break," Chris says against his cheek. Zach nods.

Chris goes inside, and Zach lights up a cigarette. He lets his legs hang off the balcony and leans his forehead against the metal bars, shuts his eyes against the smoke blowing into them.

Halfway through his second cigarette, he can't take it anymore and goes inside. Chris is in the bathroom, but the door is ajar. Still, he knocks, unsurprised when Chris looks up at him with pink, puffy eyes.

"You ready?"

He sighs and gets up from the edge of the tub.

"I'm sorry," Zach says before he even backs out of the doorway. Chris hugs him, offering the slightest bit of relief. He nuzzles the juncture of Chris' neck and shoulder. "This is my fault."

"I'm the one who had the stupid dream. If you have to blame anyone, blame me."

He has no fucking idea what to do. No matter what he says or does—if he pushes Chris away, it's going to hurt. If Zach kisses him and tells him it'll be alright, it's going to hurt. Not just Chris, but himself, although he isn't particularly concerned with self-preservation. He's handled worse.

Zach holds him closer; he's afraid to let go. Afraid this might be it. And he realizes that while he's spent so much time worrying about being Chris' first relationship, first fuck, first love, he never considered being the first one to hurt him.

"Zachary."

Not Z. Not Zach. _Zachary._ "What?"

"This fucking sucks."

"I know, baby. I know."

“No, you don’t get to call me that now.”

Zach doesn't say anything; he can't. He stands with his hands in his pockets, waiting for Chris to do something, say something, but he doesn't.

"I can't do this anymore," Zach blurts. "We can't do this anymore."

Chris looks panicked, but he nods. "I don't know if I could handle Katie reacting the way he did."

He huffs and he wants to complain; he wants to bitch that it's not fair, that he's fucked up everything with his brother and Chris just gets to keep what he has with Katie, but he can't. It was Zach's decision to test the waters with Joe so Chris didn't have to fuck with it. His idea, his choice, his sacrifice.

“I don’t want that for you.”

“I don’t want things to get worse for you.” Chris reaches for one of his hands. Zach recoils. “Zach.”

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry—I really can’t do this.”

“So that’s just… it?”

“That’s it.”

 

*

 

Chris calls him up a couple of days later, and the first thing Zach hears is sniffing. Whatever it is, it’s not a call he wants to have, so Chris cuts straight to it.

“I talked to Katie,” he says hoarsely. “I told her.”

That certainly hits Zach’s panic button. “What did she say?”

“She’s mostly just mad at you—”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“I mean, you broke up with me.”

“Christopher,” he snaps, “we both agreed that we didn’t want to hide that—and how many times did you freak the fuck out at the thought of being disowned?”

“ _Anyway,_ if you would let me finish fucking talking, then you’d know she’s only pissed because you hurt me. She was threatening to talk to you herself because she thought you, like, forced me into it.”

Zach sighs and rubs his temples. “Is she past that now?”

“I think so.”

“I didn’t—I didn’t _mean_ to hurt you.”

“I know.” Another sniff. “Zach?” His voice is breathy now, the way he sounds when he’s starting to cry.

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

He huffs, and he wants to hang up right then. “Chris, we broke up. You can’t… tell me you love me anymore,” Zach forces out, choking on the lump in his throat. “I love you, too.”

 

*

 

Zach succumbs to his need for attention and winds up at Joe’s. He’s tired of lying around and listening to the Smiths like the cliché he is, teary-eyed and greasy-headed and thinking that yeah, Morrissey totally gets it: _I want the one I can’t have, and it’s driving me mad._ He cleans himself up and goes over unannounced, because he isn’t feeling particularly friendly toward his brother, but god, he needs _someone_. The waitresses at work have asked why he’s been so down, and he mentioned the break up, but all they can do is offer condolences and give him sympathetic looks. It’s more than he’ll get from Joe, but at least he can drink there.

Joe is either a) not bothered or b) unsurprised when he shows up, or Zach just doesn’t care enough. Either way, Joe starts mixing drinks for him. He has no idea what the fuck he’s funneling into his mouth; it’s clear, and it tastes like shit, and the more alcohol he pours into his maw, the worse he feels.

“Zach, it’s been, like, a week.”

“And a half,” Zach corrects.

Joe rolls his eyes. “A week and a half.”

“How long did you come whining to me about that one girl? Like, a month?”

“Okay, point.”

“I miss him.”

“Seriously? Didn’t you talk to him the other day?”

"And it was fucking awful." He stares blankly at the coffee table, littered with junk mail and dusty with cigarette ashes, a couple of unfinished joints precariously left out. "He told me he loved me—and I'm a fucking idiot, because I said it back, and I still mean it."

"Z, you just broke up. It's gonna hurt."

“I _know_ that.” Zach hangs his head and runs his fingers through his hair. He tugs until his scalp stings, but it doesn't lessen the burn in his eyes, and it certainly doesn't keep him from crying. "It's not fair."

"What's not fair?"

"Katie is fucking fine with it," he snaps, the ache in his chest making his voice thick with hurt. "She wants to bite my fucking head off because I hurt her baby brother, and what do I get? Half-assed sympathy. Like, I already lost Dad, I barely have Chris—I can't lose you, too."

Joe's hand is on his shoulder, squeezing, then planted in between his shoulder blades. "You aren't."

"Whatever. You know that talk we had the other day? You, me, and Chris? That's why we fucking broke up."

"Zach." He's moved closer, and his arm is wrapped around Zach's shoulders, pulling him in. "It’s not like you _had_ to break up with him because of that."

Zach stands up and wipes his eyes. "You don't fucking get it, Joe, and I don't expect you to because I bet you don't have any immediate plans to start fucking Katie. If we tell people, they're going to fucking shun us, and it's... it's not worth it."

“Didn’t you think about this shit before you decided to date him?”

“I didn’t think it would last.”

“Damn, really?”

“I thought it’d be over in, like, a month and everything would go back to normal.” He crosses his arms, as if that might hold him together. “I thought it would just be physical.”

"Hey," Joe says quietly. "Sit."

He does, but he slumps against the arm of the couch. He gives up and lets it happen, lets himself cry fucking helplessly because it hurts. Zach hates the term, but it's the only way to really describe it: he is fucking heartbroken. He felt something shatter in his chest as soon as Chris left that day, and it hasn't stopped aching since.

 


	2. Chemistry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zach has an epiphany. About Chris.

_I need a favor._

Chris hasn’t asked him for a favor in two years.

Zach is brushing his teeth when he reads it. What the fuck could Chris possibly want from _him_? He brushes harder as he considers it, trying to think of what would make him request the same of Chris, and not much comes to mind. Maybe a life or death scenario, something with their parents. Chris is his last resort, and vice versa.

It still hurts. It's not the same raw, festering wound that it was. He’s been sutured and healed up, but Zach can't ignore the ache in his chest that flares up after every interaction with Chris. Every forced-casual birthday text, every moment alone with him is so unbearably uncomfortable that Zach's skin crawls.

It's not supposed to be like this.

He often wonders if Chris feels the same, but he doesn’t feel it’s appropriate to ask, not anymore. Chris has a girlfriend. Zach doesn't know how serious it is, and he wants to keep it that way.

_**what?** _ he finally replies.

_My car broke down._   
_I need a ride to class, if you're free_   
_Everyone else is busy_

He wants to say no, but that's bullshit. If he were an asshole, he'd tell Chris to take the bus, but he's seen Chris' claustrophobic, socially inept ass on public transport.

His shift at the diner isn't until later. The guilt would eat at him for days.

_**what time?** _

_Hour and a half._ It's a quarter after eleven. Zach can swing it.

Chris still lives with their parents, but Zach doesn't even get the payoff of seeing his mom. She's at work, so he stays in the car, simply texting Chris to tell him he's waiting.

"Hey," Chris mumbles, dropping his bag on the floorboard.

"Hey."

"Can I smoke in here?"

"I thought you quit."

"Yeah, well. Stress."

"I don't know why you're asking. You know you can."

Chris shakes his head as he lights up. "I'm just trying to be polite, man."

He tears his eyes off the road long enough to sneak a glance at Chris, who apparently has the same idea. Their eyes meet, and Zach tightens his grip on the wheel . "When did you decide to start being nice to me again?"

"When you said you'd give me a ride."

"Wow, never-fucking-mind."

"What? You always wanted me to be honest with you, so I am."

Zach turns the radio on so there's no pressure to talk. Their pauses in conversation used to be so comfortable, and now the tension can't even be cut with a scalpel.

"Do you need a ride back home?" he asks before Chris gets out; he’s surprised to hear himself say it. "I don't have to work until five."

"Yeah. Um. My last class lets out at three-thirty."

He goes about his Thursday as usual: he does his laundry, stops by the pound to stare longingly at the dogs he can't adopt, goes out and buys cigarettes that smell way, way better than whatever the fuck Chris was smoking earlier.

Zach can't remember the last time he saw Chris twice in one day. The fact that it’s such a novelty is mind-boggling. They used to be attached at the hip, even after Zach moved out. There’s an inkling of excitement, so he shows up a little early—thirty fucking minutes, because he has nothing better to do than chain-smoke in the university parking lot.

Chris shows up early, too—twenty minutes, five after Zach texts to let Chris know where he's waiting.

"You get out early?" he asks.

"I couldn't focus."

"Oh." When Chris starts to pull his cigarettes out, Zach swats at his hand. "No, here." He hands Chris his pack of Camel Blues.

"What?"

"You smoke L&M's. They're fucking awful."

"Why are _you_ being nice now?"

"Dude, I gave you a cigarette because I sympathize with your broke college smoking habit." He turns the radio on again. There's less tension, but he'd still rather crawl under the seat.

Chris shrugs and lights his smoke. "Will you drop me off at Leah's? She's on Edgewood."

"Am I going to have to chauffeur you back home, too? Gas is expensive, Chrissy."

"Don't call me that." The sharpness of his tone cuts deeper than it should. That's always been his response, but it's never come with venom. "No, she can drive me."

Zach begrudgingly changes his route. "Leah's the girlfriend, right?"

"That's her." Chris turns the radio up, and Zach gets the message. Loud and fucking clear.

  


*

  


Two years of basically disregarding Chris' existence and suddenly he can't, all because of a stupid car ride. All the things he’d forced himself to forget—the comfort Chris’ presence used to bring, the way they’d hold hands for the duration of even the shortest rides—come rushing back, bringing with them not only nostalgia but… a longing of sorts.

And who else to talk this over with other than Joe? Of course, he has friends who are kind of in the know. They know he had a shitty break up, but that’s all he’ll divulge. Joe, on the other hand… Joe is not only too aware of the situation and fiercely protective of his baby brother, but easily bribed with free coffee, no matter how horrible the quality.

Luckily for both of them, Pam—the middle-aged shift lead who tends to play mama bear to Zach and everyone else—lets him eat free. Zach takes advantage of it a lot, but this time, it’s important.

Joe comes over to the diner at the end of Zach’s shift with only minimal bitching about the time, quickly shutting up when Zach gives him coffee. They park themselves at a booth off to the side despite the place being mostly deserted, save for the few remaining third shifters and the late night/early morning regulars.

Zach downs a good portion of his food before he begins, "I talked to Chris the other day."

Joe’s eyebrows shoot up. "Oh no."

"Yeah, that's how I feel about it, too."

"How, pray tell, did that happen?"

"He needed a ride to class."

"Oh, yeah—he asked me, too. Did you tell him to shove it?"

"No way," he says around a mouthful of eggs. "Have you seen that kid on a bus? It's pathetic."

Joe snorts and flicks a rolled up empty sugar packet at him. " _You_ are pathetic."

"Thank you, brother dearest." Zach does feel pretty goddamn pathetic, though. "I gave him a ride and a cigarette, and I dropped him off at his girlfriend's. How is that pathetic?"

"Because you're still smitten."

"Have you been completely fucking absent for the past couple of years? Because I think you're missing the part where Chris and I hate each other."

"'Hate each other' my fucking ass, Zachary." He says it a little too loudly, and Zach hears the distinct sound of Pam clearing her throat, prepared to scold them. "Sorry," Joe peeps, then continues: "You said you took him to his girlfriend's place?" Zach nods. Joe shakes his head and chuckles. "That's rough, man."

"It was fine, Joseph." He pushes his plate away to rest his elbows on the sticky tabletop. "It was just... really awkward. And weird."

"Ah, yes, this is the part I've been waiting for. Continue."

Zach flips him off. "I miss being friends with him, man.”

“I can see the love-light in your eyes, you sappy fuck.”

“I’m not in love with him.”

Sugar packet to the chin. “Yeah, right.”

“Whatever. I… it’s like I don’t remember how to be _just_ friends with him—I do, but I don’t? I guess I just got used to him being my boyfriend, and then… nothing.” He sighs and covers his face. “I don’t know. I’m probably not making sense.”

“You are. Do you want my expert advice?”

“I’m afraid of what it might be, but yes.”

Joe kicks him under the table. “Suck it up and start talking to him, because even though you say you hate him, you’re obviously unhappy about this shit. Go be his friend again, you fucking idiot.”

  


*

  


“Go be his friend again” quickly proves to be easier said than done. He has no idea how to initiate that conversation. Zach knows that no matter what he does, it’s going to be awkward as fuck. He’s essentially belly-flopping back into Chris’ life—or trying to, anyway.

Finally, after much pestering from Joe, he manages to send the world’s vaguest text message.

_we need to talk._

He sends it before he falls asleep at who-the-fuck-knows o’clock in the morning, hoping he’ll wake up to a response—

  


—and he doesn’t. Of course not. He does, however, have the notification that Chris read it a while ago. No answer, just confirmation that Chris is an asshole, and that Zach should probably go back to trying to hate him. That, too, is easier said than done.

  


*

  


_What did you want to talk about?_

Zach doesn't even have to try to hate him right now. Two days and he finally gets a fucking response. Perfect timing, too, because he reads it in the middle of a horrible shift when he's secluded himself in the back, needing a moment alone. He gets called back out front before he can even think about responding, so the message is left alone until he's done for the night and significantly bitchier.

He's physically exhausted but still wired when he gets home. Zach drags himself to bed, not bothering to change out of his admittedly rank work clothes, pulls his phone out, and goes through his texts. Chris hasn't said anything else.

Fuck it. It's not like he's going to be sleeping anytime soon.

_**thanks for responding in a timely manner, c** _

_Just tell me. I’m curious._

_**it’s not a text convo  
it’s 5 am, why are you even up? ** _

_Can’t sleep.  
Tell me. _

It takes him a good five minutes to send it.

_**i think we should try to be friends again** _

_Definitely not a text convo  
Or one to have at 5 am. _

**yeah, well  
you can’t sleep and i can’t wind down  
AND someone took 2 fucking days to text me back and decided to do so at 5 in the morning. because someone is an idiot.**

His phone rings, obnoxious in contrast to the quiet _ping_ that plays when he gets messages, effectively scaring the shit out of him. He’s a little nervous about answering; he doesn’t know what he’s going to be met with. Chris could be angry, or he could reciprocate the feeling.

“Thanks for scaring the hell out of me, dick.”

“Uh huh,” Chris says flatly. “Why do you suddenly want to be civil again?”

“Because I don’t completely hate you?”

“What makes you think _I_ want to be friends again?”

His stomach sinks. “I don’t _know_ if you want that.”

“Well, I do.”

“Oh my god, you facetious asshole.” Relieved, Zach laughs.

“But we do need to hash some shit out, and we are _not_ doing that over the phone.”

“Yeah, and we’re not doing it now, either. I’m going the fuck to bed.”

  


*

Admittedly, Zach is pretty eager to get this meeting over with. He wants to see Chris, of course, but he’s not prepared for the ass-reaming he’s likely to get.

Okay, so, he’s not ready for this at all. It’s been a pain in the ass to work around both of their schedules, so he can’t back out easily, especially knowing how insistent Chris can be. Besides, it has to happen at some point, and if not now, when?

They meet at a coffee shop, another local Starbucks rip-off. The winter chill is finally leaving the air so he sits outside, chain-smoking to keep any nervousness at bay as he waits for Chris. It works until he actually sees Chris approaching, head down, messy mop blowing in the breeze.

Chris plunks himself down in the seat across from Zach. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“How long have you been out here?”

“I dunno—fifteen minutes, maybe?”

“You’re always early.” He shakes his head. “So, we’re hashing shit out.”

“Yeah, uh. Where do we even fucking start?”

Chris laughs. “We _are_ kind of a mess.”

Zach’s pulse quickens, and it’s not because of all the nicotine in his system. Maybe Joe was right—maybe he’s still smitten?

No. No way.

"I guess we should start at the break up," Zach says. If the air between them wasn't thick before, it is now.

Chris shifts in his seat, the legs scraping against the sidewalk. "What—what happened with Joe after that?"

"Well, I cried on his couch." Chris snorts. "No, seriously. I lost my shit and I guess he felt bad for me, because he let me stay over for a couple of days."

"But I know you guys get along—did he change his mind?"

Zach scoffs. "I wouldn't say he changed his mind so much as he... reluctantly accepted it? I dunno. He ignored me a lot for a while, but I know he feels bad about it because it fucked me up even more."

"That's... good? I mean, it sucks that he did that, but—whatever, you get what I'm saying. Were you really that upset?"

"Of course I was." Zach glances at the table, bites the inside of his lip, then looks back at Chris. "I loved you." It feels strange to say it in the past tense; he doesn't understand why. He still feels a smidgen of something for most of his exes, including Chris, but it's not love. It's more nostalgic, like he misses what they had.

"Yeah. So." He's getting flustered. "Honestly? When I told Katie—or, I guess when I told you that I told her—I was hoping we'd just... get back together. I was really pissed off about it for a while, because it felt like... it felt like you just didn't want me anymore. And that hurt, you know?"

"I know." There's something happening in his chest, but Zach shuts it right the fuck down, determined to remain mostly stoic. "It hurt when you started acting like a huge dick to me—"

"It's not like I enjoy being an ass to you, Z."

"I was going to say that we spent so much time trying not to hurt each other and ended up doing it anyway." Chris nods. "And if you don't enjoy it, then why have you been doing that shit for so long?"

"I don't know, maybe because you have?" Chris looks away for a moment. "It still kinda hurts."

"Yeah, it does."

"It's not... I wouldn't do it again." Ouch. "The circumstances sucked."

"'The circumstances sucked.'" Zach scoffs. "Okay, Chris."

"What?"

"That's a very gentle way of putting it."

"How the fuck do you want me to say it? That I hated your brother and barely kept myself from crawling back to you because I was hurting so fucking much?"

"I didn't _mean_ to hurt you."

"Yeah, well, you did."

Zach runs his hands over his face. "You couldn't make me feel bad about this when it happened? You really had to save it until now?"

"I didn't think I'd ever tell you, but here we fucking are. And trust me, I wanted to make you feel like shit. But I didn't."

"Oh, well, thank you for being so noble, Christopher."

"You know what?" Chris licks his lips and narrows his eyes. "Leah's the first person I've dated who's actually made me forget about you."

“You wound me,” he says, rolling his eyes. It really does sting. Chris isn't even clawing at old lacerations; he’s creating new ones. Defensively, he returns the favor. “That’s not saying much. You've dated people before her, and you’re just now saying that?”

Chris stands up, but leans over and smacks his hands down on the table. “You’re such a _dick_ —and you want to be friends again?”

He gapes, but he can’t answer.

"That’s what I thought." Chris picks up his bag. "Good talk," he mumbles, then storms off.

*

Zach figures it's best to give Chris—and himself, if he's being honest—a few days to simmer down. Except a few days turns into a week and then some, because he knows he fucked up. He's embarrassed about the way he treated Chris—Zach was the one who wanted to have the meeting, and he fucked it up.

He knows he's being immature. They both have every reason to be upset, he thinks, given the circumstances of their relationship, but it doesn't give either of them an excuse to lash out.

Zach wonders if it's best to just finish letting everything out and then let it die, or if it's still worth it to pursue a friendship. The longer he has to think on it, the more he finds he doesn't really care what the end result is. He wants this shit off his shoulders once and for all. He doesn't want to have to silently brood when he and Chris get seated next to or across from each other, when they have to exist in the same space for a while.

At this rate, he just wants something vaguely civil.

So he gives Chris some space and, once he can't fucking take it anymore, Zach messages him, just a simple request for a phone call.

Half an hour later, all he gets is _I don't have anything to say to you_. Understandable, but it cuts deeper than he thinks it should.

_**ok but i have shit to say to you  
so call me ** _

Another half hour: his phone is ringing and his heart is pounding. "Chris—"

"What do you want?"

"We need to talk."

"Whatever it is, make it fast."

"No, dude, we need to _talk_. Again."

" _Make it fast._ "

"I'm sorry. For what I said about you being jealous."

"I... shouldn't have done that, either." Chris sighs. "Okay, listen. I need a break from this paper. Dad and Margo are gone. Come over."

When he gets there, Zach’s not sure if it's the way the old place comforts him or because there's less unspoken, but the tension between them has let up by a minuscule fraction, and he's glad. He follows Chris upstairs and flops on the bed, sitting in the same space he always has, his back pressed against the footboard. It's like he never left. Like they're picking up where they left off the last time he was in this position.

Chris sits across from him in the middle of the mattress, crossing his legs. "I think we should set some ground rules."

"Alright."

"If we're... if we're trying to be friends again—that's what we're doing, right?" Zach nods. "We probably shouldn't be at each other's throats."

"Good one. Here's mine: no storming off angrily."

"I mean, I'm in my own house, so it'd be you storming off."

"Well, that's not my style, so I guess we're good." Zach looks down at the sheets; they have Spiderman on them. "I guess we should, ah, do a repeat of our last conversation? Because that got blown way out of proportion, I think."

"Yeah. Um. Where do you want to start?"

"You said you don't like being an asshole." He glances up at Chris. "And that you hated Joe? Start there."

"I was mad at Joe for a long fucking time. I was mostly just trying to pin it all on him, you know?” Zach nods. God knows he did, too. “And I really don’t like being a dick to you.”

“Then why?”

Chris sighs. “Honestly?”

“Rule number three: no bullshit.”

“Fair enough.” He shrugs and stays silent for a moment. “There’s still something there. I don’t know what it is—I don’t know if it’s because I miss having you around, or because I miss being with you.”

He shouldn’t be so eager, given that Chris literally just told him he doesn’t know what he’s feeling, but Zach gets butterflies anyway. “God, I fucking hate you.”

“What?” Chris sounds genuinely worried despite the lack of venom in Zach’s voice.

“No, I was joking.” He doesn’t miss Chris’ relieved little sigh. “I mean… you do something to me.”

“Something?”

“A good something.”

Chris shifts uncomfortably. “I don’t think I should be talking about this. Not when I have a girlfriend.”

There’s a childlike pang of jealousy in his gut, but he nods. “That’s fair.”

“But we can still try being friends, right?”

“Yeah, duh. I think we still have more to say, though.”

“Well, it’s your turn.”

“I… don’t even know.” He looks back down at the sheets. “God, remember when I jizzed like, right in the middle of a web?”

“You’re deflecting.”

“Yeah. Sorry. I really don’t know what to say.”

Chris scoffs and palms at his eyes. “This was your idea, Z—and you _literally_ just said you think we have more to say.” He’s frustrated. Zach understands; he is, too.

Zach sighs. “I know. I’m just being stupid.”

“Kinda your default setting.” He’s smiling just a little, but it’s enough to make Zach grin. “Come on.”

He sobers quickly as he considers it. “When you said Leah made you forget about it? That really fucking sucked.”

“That… is only partially true.” Chris looks like a guilty puppy, his head lowered as he looks carefully at Zach. “Um, rule number four. No more unnecessarily mean shit.”

“Kinda redundant given the first one, but seconded.”

“I’m sorry. There’s still this, like, part of me that’s… you didn’t do anything to hurt me, so I guess I’m still just mad about what happened. And taking it out on you when I shouldn’t.” He keeps looking down at the sheets where he’s absently picking at something and back up at Zach. “It’s stupid that I’m still bummed, isn’t it?”

Zach tuts. “That makes two of us.”

  


*

  


Their first steps back into friendship are tentative, but they quickly get the hang of it. They start small so they can get used to each other again, texting sporadically and making vague plans to hang out that keep getting pushed back.

Even after midnight the diner gets a fair amount of business. The pros of living in a big city, Zach guesses, although most late nighters are drunk and/or stoned. Or old and reclusive, but at least the old hermits are funny.

Some nights it gets really, really fucking slow, and Zach gets really, really fucking bored. Tonight is one of those nights, so he’s been texting around, asking anyone and everyone to come entertain him—and for the first time in a long time, Chris isn’t the last person he thinks of. It feels a little weird, but Zach figures it won’t hurt if he at least asks.

_you up?_

_**The night is young, Z.** _

_busy?_

_**Paper** _

_fuck that, come hang out with me  
i’m bored as fuck at work. _

_**Slacker  
What’s in it for me? ** _

my beautiful face, first of all.  
secondly, the inevitable drunkards.  
idk. i’ll feed you?

_**You had me at drunkards.  
See you in ten. ** _

Chris shows up with his laptop in tow and settles at the far end of the bar. Zach’s taking care of one of his favorite regulars—this old man who always wears a Vietnam vet cap, dumps no less than five Sweet’N Lows in his coffee, and occasionally dishes out a war story—so he motions to Chris that he’ll be there in a second. He can hear Pam talking to Chris, but Zach can barely hear him reply. He always goes quiet when he’s feeling shy. Zach can’t really blame him. Pam tends to come off a bit strong, and it catches him off guard sometimes even after a year or so of working with her.

He finally manages to slip away and over to Chris, who’s sipping on a coffee despite the steam still wafting from it. “God, thank you,” he says. “It’s not usually this slow.”

“No problem, man. I’m gonna need a fucking caffeine IV to finish this paper anyway.”

“What’s it about?”

“Uh, we just have to write a bunch of bullshit about a single word. Mine’s ‘sacrosanct.’”

“Good word. Did you pick it?” Chris nods. “How English major of you.”

Chris not-so-discreetly flips him off and opens up his laptop, and everything feels almost like it used to.

  


*

  


Zach isn’t sure exactly when it hits, but he does know that when Chris sends an _I miss you_ text, his chest swells and he can’t breathe. He calls Joe unannounced before he even thinks about replying, bouncing his leg and chewing at his thumb’s nail.

“Dude, it’s one AM.”

“Whatever, dude. Chris texted me and now I’m freaking out. In a good way.”

“Did he finally declare his undying love for you?”

“No—he just said he missed me?”

“Are you going to play this off as ‘I’m just really glad we’re friends again?’”

He groans and hunches over. His heart is pounding, stomach fluttering. He can’t. “No.”

  


*

  


If Zach didn’t already have confirmation on his feelings for Chris, he sure as shit would now. Chris is in his room, sitting cross-legged on his floor, kicking his fucking ass at Mario Kart.

He missed this and he knows Chris has too, because he keeps saying “I really missed this” out of the blue. At some point their game is forgotten as they get caught up in conversation, the level’s music acting as a soundtrack far too whimsical for the subject.

“So, what I didn’t want to tell you when we talked that day.” Chris fingers the frays around a rip in his jeans. “I loved you so much, Zach, and I know I’ve said this like, a gazillion times by now, but it really fucking hurt when we broke up. And… I guess at that time it felt necessary?” He pauses for a beat. “Okay, it _was_ necessary, as much as that sucks to say. I know my happiness shouldn’t be dependent on a relationship—and it’s not, I’m totally fine being single and dating other people, but none of that is as… fulfilling? I’ve been thinking about it, and I miss you. I miss you a lot. Like, I think… I still love you.”

“Chris,” he says carefully, trying to keep any unsteadiness out of his tone, “you have a girlfriend.”

“I just needed you to know, okay?” He licks his lips and Zach stares. He knows Chris sees him do it. “Like, of course I miss being best friends, but I miss everything else, too.”

Zach turns to face him, rests his elbow on his knee and his chin in that hand. “Do tell.”

“Okay, that I’m _really_ not comfortable talking about while I still have a girlfriend.” Chris blushes furiously. “That makes it sound like I’m talking about some kind of sex thing.”

“Just a little.” God, he’s dying to touch Chris, at the very least move closer to him, but _everything_ feels inappropriate now. Like they’ll cross a line if they haven’t already.

“It’s really just the little things. I miss… you know those moments where like, everything just kind of fits together, and it’s inexplicably perfect?”

Zach nods. He’s pretty sure he has enough of those moments to fill at least twenty pages, single-spaced, tiny font. Most of his seem to involve them sitting in the dark, some source of light playing off of Chris’ face, highlighting his profile; Zach cupping Chris’ cheek to turn his head and kiss the slope of his nose, the gentle curves of his lips.

“Those. I had a lot of them with you. Like, there was this one morning when you still lived at home, and I got into your bed before I had to leave. I think you were still half asleep, but we were spooning and I could feel you breathing on my neck.” Chris shrugs. “It was nice.”

He doesn’t remember, but he can picture it clearly. For the first time in a while the silence between them is more comfortable than awkward, and it feels amazing. The remaining tension is from admission of feelings rather than their repression. Zach can deal with that. They’ve done it before.

“I want to kiss you,” Chris says quietly. His tongue sweeps across his lips.

“I want you to kiss me.” He wants to and he could. Chris is right there, just out of his reach. “But we’re about to cross a fucking line, so I think we need to figure out what the hell we’re doing. Again.”

“Yeah, uh. I guess we’re kind of overstepping the ‘friends’ boundaries.”

“If you were single, what would we be doing right now?”

Chris grins and lowers his head. “You answer that first.”

“I mean, I’d be doing the same thing I’m doing now.”

“Which is?”

“Trying to figure out if you’d take me back or not.”

“Oh my god, Z, are you serious?”

Zach raises his eyebrows. “Yeah? Just because you want to kiss me and miss all of these little moments doesn’t mean you want to do _that_ again.”

“Zachary?”

“What?”

“You’re a fucking idiot.” Chris’ hand slides over and covers his, and every single nerve lights up. “I would take you back in a fucking heartbeat.”

“If not for Leah.” He turns his hand up, fingertips grazing Chris’ palm. “I don’t want you to fuck that up.”

“Trust me, I don’t _want_ to fuck that up.” He licks his lips and purses them, looking from their hands to Zach’s face. “I want to say that I don’t want to have to choose, but I think it’s pretty fucking obvious who I’d pick.”

“I’m honestly hoping you’ll say her.”

“Why?”

His pulse feels off the charts. How the fuck does Chris still do this to him? Four years, give or take, and Chris still gives him butterflies like no one else ever has and probably ever will. “I want you to have a happy, _normal_ relationship. One you don’t have to lie about.”

“Zach, it’s not fair to Leah if I’m with her but in love with someone else. Besides, we _had_ a happy, normal relationship.” Chris squeezes his hand. “And we don’t _have_ to lie.”

“You were scared of telling anyone back then.”

“I’ve grown up since then—and you were, too, remember? But we told Katie and Joe anyway. Katie didn’t mind too much, and Joe…”

“...started coming around,” Zach finishes. “But our friends. Our fucking _parents_ , Chris.”

“I know.” Chris brings his hands up to Zach’s face, caressing his cheeks; Zach holds onto his wrists. “I know it’s hard on you because of your dad. I get that. So… if you want to try this again, and you want to tell them, okay. If you don’t, that’s fine, too. Whatever you need.”

His breath is shaky, like he might cry. “We should sleep on it.”

“Definitely.” Chris strokes his cheek with the pad of his thumb before he grabs Zach’s hand and gives it one last squeeze. “Come on, I’m not done kicking your ass at M Kart.”

  


*

  


There's still a childish part of Zach that hates admitting when Joe's right about something, but he couldn't give less of a fuck at this point. He is excited, god dammit, and not even Joe's self-satisfaction can ruin it.

He texts as soon as Chris leaves. "Come over for a few" turned into a day and a half, and being around him for that long has Zach feeling a little high, so his first message is in extremely undignified caps.

_JOSEPH CALL ME ASAP_

_**Why?** _

_it’s important_

_**Define important.** _

_CHRIS_

**Jesus  
Give me a couple of hours.  
Good or bad?**

_good_   
_fantastic, even_   
_just do it_

He ends up harassing Corey, getting roped into round after round of Call of Duty until Joe finally calls almost exactly three hours later.

"Seriously, in the middle of the campaign?" Corey asks.

"Sorry, dude." Zach barely remembers to turn the controller off. "It's my brother."

He hurries into his room and accidentally slams the door. "It's about fucking time, man," Zach says.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s up with Chris or not?”

Zach collapses onto his bed. The buzz from being around Chris is starting to wear off, and his brain feels fucking fried after staring at the TV for so long. “We hung out this weekend and—you were right.”

“Of course, but what about?” Joe sounds smug as ever, and he knows it’s only going to get worse.

“I’m still in love with him.”

“I told you, man.”

“And we talked about getting back together.”

“Okay, slow down, buddy.”

Zach rolls his eyes.

“You guys have been on speaking terms for, like… three weeks, tops? And doesn’t he have a girlfriend?”

“Yeah, that’s the only problem.” He fidgets a little. “I don’t want him to leave her for _me_ of all people.”

Joe scoffs. “Biggest load of shit I’ve ever heard.”

“Seriously, dude. I love him, I really do, and I absolutely want him back—but I also want him to lead as normal a life as possible, you know?”

“Hmm, yeah. I guess gay pseudo-incest isn’t really the way to go about being quote unquote normal.”

“Not particularly.”

“Have you ever considered that maybe he doesn’t _want_ normal?” Zach furrows his brows. “Did you talk about what’s going to happen with the girlfriend?”

“Sort of. Um. He likes her a lot, doesn’t really want to choose between us, but… he said that it’s obvious?” His cheeks are on fire, and he scrubs at them. “He said he’d take me back in a heartbeat.”

“Aw, Z. See, if he wanted something normal, he’d go get it. But he wants you, and you’re being a fucking idiot.”

“Ugh, I hate him.” Zach covers his face to hide his grin, smiling so hard that his cheeks hurt.

“ _That_ is the biggest load of shit I’ve ever heard.”

  


*

  


They aren't able to meet in person. Chris is busy with school, and a waitress at the diner has been out sick, so Zach's been covering for her. They do text, though, but not about the situation at hand. There's too much to cover, too many long-winded feelings that Zach can't articulate.

They squeeze in a FaceTiming session, and god, cameras do not do Chris justice at all. He has the phone propped up against a pillow or something so his hands are free and he’s able to type up a paper. "I made A's in both Comp classes, Z. I can bullshit a Soc paper," he insists.

Zach’s mouth goes dry when he's about to speak. He grabs the day-old bottle of water on his nightstand and takes a couple of swigs, then curls up on his side and aims the camera at his face. "I guess we should get straight to it?"

"Yeah." Chris glances at him. "I talked to Katie."

"I haven't received any death threats, so I assume it went well?"

"Pretty good. She's wary, but she agrees with me on how it's not fair to Leah. She doesn't want me to fuck her over like that. So... I guess I'm gonna break up with her."

"Please, _please_ think about it more."

"Zachary, listen to me." He looks back into the camera, his eyes just as penetrating as they are in person, and pushes his laptop aside. "I'm going to be honest here, and it's going to be really fucking sappy: I love her, I really do, but when I imagine growing old, you're right there with me. As my boyfriend. And if I'm dating someone else and that's what I'm seeing—if that's what I want, let's be honest—then that's not right."

He drops his phone and buries his face in his pillow, smiling so hard his face hurts.

"Z?" Chris sounds a little worried. "Come on, dude."

Zach turns his head so his voice isn't muffled, but he doesn't dare pick the phone back up, not yet. "You've finally done it. You've killed me, and I've died and gone to Heaven. Jesus lets the gays in, just so you know."

"Oh my god, you asshole. I'm being totally real here and you're fucking around."

"Because you are so fucking adorable that it kills me." His face is still on fire. He grabs his phone anyway, half-hiding behind his free hand. "God, you're sweeter than aspartame."

Chris blushes and ignores him. "I don't know when I'm seeing her next."

"Don't worry about it."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Take your time." He means it. Zach understands being bogged down with school shit, and he needs time to wrap his head around all of this too. "Chris? Do you think we should tell them?"

Chris bites his lip. "I'd like to tell my mom, at least. Maybe Patrick? But if that weirds you out—"

"No, it's alright. As long as they're sworn to secrecy."

"I think we can manage that." He smiles at Zach, resting his head on the inside of his bicep. “I’m gonna go, okay? I want a night off and between this shit and school, I’ll need, like, ten fucking joints to relax.”

"Alright." Zach doesn't really know what to say—'I love you' almost slips out, as well as several endearments. "Talk to you later."

  


*

  


_I'm doing it tomorrow._

Part of Zach wants to do fucking flips—and he probably would if not for Neal sitting next to him on their dingy-ass couch, critiquing the cinematography of whatever the hell he has pulled up on Netflix.

The other part stays rational, reminding him that nothing's going to happen right off the bat. So he stays calm and mostly still, save for the fidgeting that makes Neal reach over and smack his shoulder.

_**you're sure about this?** _

_I'm sure.  
I love you. _

_**i love you too.** _

  


*

  


Preemptively, Zach gives him a sympathetic look and offers Chris a one-armed hug before he's even through the door. "How'd it go?"

"As well as it could, I guess." Chris slips both arms around him, pressing his face into Zach's neck. His breathing is a little ragged, humid against his skin, almost sending a shiver down Zach's spine. "But that's that."

Zach nuzzles the side of his head. He feels Chris' hair against his skin, sucks in a deep, greedy breath. Chris smells good—like cheap ocean breeze scented shampoo, but good.

"Do you still want me back?" Chris asks, timid.

"Of course I do. But I'm doing it right this time."

"What do you mean?"

He chews the inside of his lip and backs away just enough to look at Chris, still holding onto his arms. "I wanna take you on dates and shit. I don't want to take you for granted again."

Chris smiles, but there's still a sadness in his eyes, the same one looming in Zach's sternum. "Gonna wine and dine me, huh?"

"If you're into Boone's and boxed wine, I'm your guy."

"Cheap date." He snickers and pulls Zach into another hug, this time pressing their foreheads together. They stand in front of the door, just holding, breathing, feeling. "Sorry I'm such a bummer today."

"You just broke up with someone. I understand." Zach cards his fingers through Chris' hair, then grabs his hand and pulls him over to the couch—Corey’s at work and Neal is in class, so fuck it. Chris doesn't lean so much as fall into him, pressed firmly against his side, and Zach certainly isn't going to complain, especially when Chris' arms loop around his middle and his head comes to rest on Zach's shoulder. "God, I missed this."

"Me, too." He feels Chris' head tilt, the hair brushing his cheek replaced by lips. "Can I kiss you?"

Zach shifts a bit so it's easier to look at Chris. "Anytime you want."

He sighs as Chris' lips ghost over his. It's enough to send a surge of electricity up his spine, but not enough to satiate. Of course he'll take pecks and a simple brush of lips after years of fucking nothing, but god, he craves Chris—and finally, finally his tongue prods at Zach's lips, asking permission as if he doesn't already know the answer.

Zach moans into his mouth, unable to suppress a shudder as he explores every familiar nook and cranny. His hands come to rest on Chris' hip but soon move to the small of his back, digging his nails in, trying to pull him closer. Chris breaks away long enough to straddle his lap. His cock presses against Zach; he's hard as hell, and Zach literally salivates.

He's so glad to be back in this position, practically melting against Chris, into his arms. It feels right, like he should have been here all along—and how can all of this be so wrong if that's the case? The thought leaves as quickly as it came along, and his mind is almost blissfully blank, save for a stream of _oh god oh god oh god_ and a minor sensory overload, because he is taking in everything. Every tiny noise Chris makes, muffled by Zach's lips. Everywhere Chris touches seems to ignite, like his nerves might as well be fireworks.

“I think this might be moving out of kiss territory,” Chris murmurs.

“I don’t think Moosa would appreciate us desecrating his grandmother’s sofa.”

Giggling, Chris gets up and tugs at Zach’s hands. Zach steers him into the bedroom, barely having the mind to lock the door behind them.

Chris lets out a little 'oof' as he pulls Zach on top of him. Zach chuckles and rolls onto his side, pulling Chris up with him. "Easy, baby." He drags his thumb against Chris' lip, Chris' tongue darting out to lick the pad of his finger. "We have time," he finishes, trying to convince not only Chris but himself. Everything feels so urgent, fast enough to make his head spin.

"I know, but I missed this." Chris pulls Zach's hand away from his mouth and holds it almost delicately, kissing his knuckles. "I want to feel close to you again."

He wants to say something about how they _are_ close, at least physically, but he gets what Chris is saying. He feels the same—like if he isn't touching Chris, everything might fall apart again. So Zach kisses him again, feeling around for Chris' hand, grasping tightly when he finds it. He laces their fingers together to convince himself that this is real, this is happening. Chris is here, Chris is kissing him. Chris wants him.

He wants it just as bad. Zach misses fucking him, misses being inside Chris and making him come, Chris whimpering in his ear, scratching up his back and biting bruises into his shoulders.

Maybe it's because of the circumstances—growing up together, living in close quarters, knowing the gory details about one another—that he feels so vulnerable with Chris. He isn't quite sure, but he's never felt that with anyone else. Chris makes him feel safe, like it's alright to feel as needy as he does. Whatever it is, it makes him rut against Chris like the horny teenager he used to be and moan pathetically in his ear, something he seldom allows himself to do with other fucks.

"God, Zach," Chris breathes. "Get up."

Zach scrambles off of him and decides to move things along, amazed they've kept their clothes on this long. Just as he's undoing his pants, Chris gets up and pushes Zach's hands away. He kisses under Zach's navel, nuzzles the thick trail of hair as he fumbles with Zach's stupid double-button jeans.

"Of all fucking things to wear," Chris mumbles, hastily tugging them and his boxer briefs down.

"Wasn't really expecting to get laid today." He could say more, but Chris' mouth is on his cock, planting little open-mouthed kisses and sucking gently. "God, Chris."

He's already dripping an embarrassing amount of pre-come, so he pulls Chris up by his shoulders. Zach kisses him quickly before urging Chris down onto his back, hastily yanking his pants off. His dick flops back against his belly with a soft smack, and Zach leans over him, runs his hands up and down Chris' body. He feels the soft curves of his ribs and hips, still jutting out slightly despite the way he's filled out a bit; the weight of Chris' cock in his hand, the slick, velvety head, the veins protruding from his taut skin.

He still has to open Chris up. His lube is stashed precariously between the bed and the nightstand, but he has to rummage for condoms. Zach curses under his breath while Chris laughs at him. He finds them in the second drawer, shoved in the back, and grabs a handful, dropping them on the surface of the table.

Then he descends, lube in hand, and settles between Chris' legs, nuzzling the insides of his thighs, inhaling his musky scent. It helps Chris to relax. He's tense, and Zach can't really blame him. It's probably the anticipation—it's getting to him, too, seeing as he feels like he'll come as soon as he's inside of Chris.

"Hurry _up,_ " Chris whines.

"Shhhh." Zach curls his fingers just right, and Chris' back arches. "Don't wanna hurt you."

He hears a smack and looks up, finding that it's Chris' hand on the surface of his nightstand, blindly grabbing a condom that he tears open with his teeth.

"Jesus, Chris," he mumbles, giving his fingers one last twist before removing them and moving off to the side. He rolls the condom on and lubes up while Chris gets back on his hands and knees.

Zach is able to push inside with only minor difficulty, relieving the rest of Chris' tension with open-mouthed kisses up his spine, along his shoulder blades. He shudders as he finally sinks in with ease; he can't be quiet, his grunts turning into moans that are muffled by Chris' skin. It feels good, letting go like this, hearing Chris' noises between his own.

They finally move around so Chris is on his back, allowing Zach to lean over and kiss him. Chris claws at the small of his back, and Zach moans into his mouth, thrusts harder so Chris does the same.

He has a rule about making whoever he's fucking come first. This orgasm? Not so easy to stave off, not when Chris is quite possibly making him bleed and starting to contract around him. Zach removes one of Chris' hands from his back and guides it to his cock, not missing the way Chris' breath hitches at his own hand, nor the way that hand moves at fucking lightning speed.

He feels some of Chris' jizz hit his torso and sighs, slowing his thrusts until Chris motions for him to stop.

"Give me a minute," Chris pants, "and I'll take care of you."

His dick twitches hopefully and he pulls out.

Once he's caught his breath a little, Chris pushes Zach onto his back and straddles him. Zach short-circuits. He holds Chris' hips as they roll fucking expertly, pressing his head back into the mattress. His hands slide up to Chris' shoulders and pull him down so Zach can kiss him, thrust up into him.

Chris' lips brush the shell of his ear, and that's what tips him over. He's so overloaded with Chris that it's enough to make Zach bite his shoulder to mute a shout as he comes, pulsing inside of Chris.

He takes a moment before pushing against Chris' hip, silently telling him to get off. Chris collapses next to him on his stomach, chuckling into the pillow. "Jesus fuck, Zachary."

"That was a little bit more than a kiss." Zach tugs the condom off and drops it in the trash.

"No complaints here, except for the jizz on me."

"Go clean it off?"

"Why do that when _you_ can clean me up?" He peeks over at Zach and jabs him in the ribs.

"I'm guessing you're not talking about me going and getting a wash cloth."

"Correct."

Zach sighs but grins. "Come here," he says, beckoning Chris. Chris hovers over him so Zach can lick him clean, and Zach is surprised at how much he missed tasting Chris like this. "There you go, you lazy fuck."

"Hey, you saved very important cuddling time." On cue, Chris attaches himself to Zach's side. "Is it weird if I tell you I love you? Because I do. A lot."

"It's not like we have the greatest track record of doing shit normally." Chris can't see it, but Zach smiles. "I love you, too."

  


*

  


He's never taken Chris _out_ on a date, and Zach starts regretting that as soon as Chris walks in. "Jesus fucking Christ," he says, holding Chris at arm's length so he can gawk.

Aside from his graduation, this is probably the most dressed up Zach has ever seen him, which isn’t saying much—there’s a rip in his jeans, dirt on his shoes, and there will probably be food on his shirt later. Still, this is Chris, and that’s what Zach is here for.

"Hi?" Chris grins and giggles, closing the gap between them. Zach hugs him like they didn't just see each other a few days ago, a meeting that was intended to assess the situation but turned into a teenage-style make out session.

Zach buries his face in Chris' neck and inhales, only coming back up to kiss him. "You smell good. And look good, but that's a given."

Chris' cheeks flush. "Thank you."

“This shirt brings out your eyes.” He plucks the front of Chris’ shirt, a baby blue button down that does, indeed, make his eyes seem that much more intense. “Shall we?”

“We shall.” Chris offers his arm, and Zach hooks his around it.

The place he takes Chris to is a slightly-above-average pizza parlor because, well. Pizza is a universal favorite, and it’s still relatively cheap. Bonus: it’s a little further out of their way, which means he can ogle Chris as he pleases.

They get stuffed into a tiny corner booth, not exactly away from everyone else, but secluded enough that he doesn’t immediately pull away when Chris reaches over for his hand. Zach smiles at him, curls his fingers around Chris’.

This is right. This is exactly how it should be: them, having a stupid date night, Chris letting out a too-loud “fuck!” when he inevitably drips something on himself, talking about school and work and their friends—really, just trying to finish the game of catch-up they’ve been playing.

Zach kisses him before they’re even back to the car, and on the drive back he holds Chris’ hand. He has to. He’s been so Chris-deprived, and seeing him in his element—gesticulating wildly while talking about literature—only makes it worse. He wants to make up for lost time, lost touches.

“Do you have classes tomorrow?” he asks.

“Maybe you should’ve checked _before_ taking me out on a Wednesday night?” Chris snickers and presses his face into Zach’s neck.

“Ugh, shit. I forgot.”

“However, I’ll hang out with you anyway, because I know you’re going to ask.”

“You sure?”

“No, Z, I’d rather go sit in my room and end up on the phone with you all night any-fucking-way.”

“Touché.”

“Are Neal and Corey gonna be around?”

“Um, I dunno. Moosa’s been seeing some chick, so he might be gone. Why, are you planning on getting laid?” He slips his hand up Chris’ thigh and squeezes. “Because we can always do like the days of yore and utilize the backseat.”

Chris snorts. “Only if it’s behind a church.”

“Dude, no. Catholic guilt’s a bitch.”

“Aw, come on. It was fun.”

“Yeah, fucking my underage boyfriend right next to my mother’s church. It was really good sex, but I wouldn’t call it _fun_.” Zach turns his head just enough to kiss the top of Chris ’ head. “Maybe we’ll get lucky tonight and won’t have to stop because _someone_ can’t be quiet.”

“Hey, man. You love it.”

“I do.”

Chris finally pries himself away, settling back in the passenger seat. “Makes for a great story, though.”

They stay silent for the remainder of the drive, save for Chris humming quietly along with the radio. It’s nice. It’s _comfortable_ , even. Occasionally, Zach sees Chris turn his head, presumably to look at him, and it’s… strange, but welcome. He missed being the subject of Chris’ fond looks.

“Hey,” he says when Zach parks. “We should go down to the playground.”

“We are _not_ having sex on the playground.”

“I don’t want to fuck you there, dumbass, I want to swing.”

“Oh my god, are you five?”

“Shut up and indulge me, asshat.”

“Alright, alright.” Zach locks up and slings his arm around Chris’ shoulders as they walk to the end of the cul-de-sac where the questionably safe swingset is.

He sits in the grass while Chris swings despite the dew, and he’s fairly certain the set is going to collapse under Chris’ weight. It’s rusty and creaking and meant for fucking children, not a twenty-year-old man who can just about send himself over the top bar.

“Can you like, stop before you kill yourself?” Zach asks. “I kind of prefer you alive.” He looks over just as Chris comes to a loud, chain-rattling stop.

“I doubt I’m gonna die if I fall off a swing.” Nevertheless, he comes over and sits on Zach’s lap, straddling him. Zach sighs and lets his eyes flutter shut as Chris touches his face. His hands are cool from the metal of the chains, his hold strong—his lips soft and hot as he catches Zach’s in a kiss. “Tonight’s been really fucking great, Z.”

“Yeah? I’m glad.”

When they go back to the apartment, Corey is, amazingly enough, asleep, and Neal is last-minute editing a short film for class, so they slip away without getting caught in a conversation.

The first thing Zach does upon shutting and locking the door is change his fucking pants, because the dew’s soaked through to his boxers. He pulls on a pair of sweats—they’ll probably be coming off soon, anyway.

“Zachary?”

He tosses his sodden clothes in the hamper and turns around, looking at Chris, who’s sitting on the edge of the bed. “Yeah?” Zach flops next to him.

“Can we try again?” Chris finds his hand and squeezes it. “I mean, I know we technically _are_ , but—I want it to be official.”

Zach smirks. “Would you like to put that in more specific terms?”

“Aw, don’t be a dick.” Chris grins and licks his lips, his cheeks quickly reddening. “I wanna be your boyfriend again.”

“As it happens, I want to be yours, too.”

Something inside of him settles when they kiss, and Zach knows he was stupid to ever let Chris go.

They stay up too fucking late, so late that Chris decides to say fuck it and just pull an all-nighter. They’re too busy—talking, groping, trying to fuck quietly—to care about sleeping. Zach knew he missed these kinds of nights, but he didn’t realize just how much until it’s four in the morning and Chris is blushing his way through the story of his first time with a girl.

Chris is so different. He's matured, learned things, had new experiences—and maybe Zach doesn’t quite know him inside and out anymore, not yet, but they are far from strangers, and he can still say with certainty that he’s in love.


End file.
